Another Year Goes By
by SkinwalkerSkiddo
Summary: Second part of an AU in which Rick's group stays on the farm after the night the barn burned and work on building a life there. Daryl/Glenn-centric.


I wasn't quite ready to let go of my Make It A Home Sweet Home verse so I decided to dabble in it a bit more. This is and AU set an unspecified number of years in the future (probably around five after the initial outbreak) and follows the characters as another year passes on the farm. Daryl/Glenn-centric, with loads of fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, a touch of gore and horror, and just a bunch of random nonsense.

This will make a lot more sense if you've read Make It A Home Sweet Home first since there are references to events and original characters (animals) from that story. And in case it isn't painfully obvious by the content of my other fics, I am a total sucker for Daryl and Judith fluff so expect more of that here.

–––

The old cast iron wood burning stove on the main floor did a fairly good job of keeping the entire farmhouse warm on the cold, cold, cold winter nights. Its heat spread out from the open main floor to the second story bedrooms and all the way up to the tiny, very cluttered little bedroom by the attic that Daryl and Glenn had claimed as their own years ago.

That cluttered little room by the attic, full of weapons and antlers and baseball gear and all manner of knick-knacks, was where both men were currently sprawled across each other and tangled in the numerous blankets and quilts piled on their bed.

Glenn mouthed along the surprisingly soft skin of Daryl's belly. Long healed scars interrupted the smooth skin and he stroked his tongue along those whenever he came to them. Two just above his hip were newer than the others. Scars from falling down a ravine and landing on his own arrow while looking for a long lost little girl. Glenn kissed those gently. Another one, on his opposite side was even newer. A gunshot wound right over his lower ribs from a sadist with an eyepatch. Glenn stroked his fingertips against that one.

Daryl heaved a shuddering sigh and tangled his fingers in the blanket underneath him. He watched Glenn with hooded eyes. "S'nice. But shouldn't I–"

"You're right where I want you."

The younger man smiled and scraped his teeth along a small cluster of freckles above Daryl's hip bone. A hard suck followed and he didn't release his hold until the skin turned a bright reddish pink with a hint of purple blooming in the center. Daryl rumbled at him and Glenn flashed a devilish grin.

"After that first winter I could count all of your ribs when you were laid out like this."

"That the nice way of saying I'm fat now?" The crinkled skin at the corner of Daryl's eyes easily gave away his amusement.

Glenn rolled his eyes and poked Daryl in the side. "I'm saying you look good with some meat on your bones."

Warm fingers dug into the naked flesh of Glenn's ass and Daryl pulled him closer. "I like your meat on my bone better."

Glenn cackled and fell forward onto Daryl's chest, smothering his giggles into the older man's skin. He had tears in his eyes by the time he got his laugher under control and Daryl was grinning at him.

"That was the worst dirty talk ever. It's a good thing I love you otherwise I might make fun of you and then kick you out."

Daryl reached up and wrapped an arm around Glenn's shoulders, drawing him in for a kiss. "It's a damn good thing. Now c'mere."

Glenn moaned into the kiss when Daryl spread his legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling Glenn close and rocking their hips together. The younger man shuddered at the slow drag of warm skin.

"Fuck that's hot."

After sucking and biting kisses down Daryl's neck and chest he paused, glancing up and biting his lip tentatively.

"Turn over? Please?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before turning to stretch out on his stomach and bury his face into the pillow beneath him. Glenn grabbed another pillow to shove under the older man's hips, pushing and pulling to get him right where he wanted him. It was a golden opportunity, having the man this compliant and docile and Glenn was planning to thoroughly enjoy every second of it. And make sure that Daryl enjoyed himself too.

Glenn started by leaning forward to suck on the back of Daryl's neck. He took a deep inhale of his scent and began mouthing his way down the nubs of his spine and across one wide shoulder to the demons tattooed there. He scraped his teeth against their wings and continued across to Daryl's deltoid and up the folded arm he had his head pillowed on. He nipped at the elbow and then drug his tongue in a teasing trail along his forearm until he could reach Daryl's smirking mouth. He kissed him sweetly for a long moment before pulling back to nibble and mouth his way along the rest of Daryl's back and ribs.

Goosebumps rose up on Daryl's arms as Glenn's warm breath fanned out against his lower back. Daryl's own breath left him when warm wet heat began stroking and pressing into him.

Daryl buried his face into his pillow and pushed his hips back for more. Glenn smirked against his skin and thrust his tongue in deep, fucking him with his mouth. He could hear Daryl trying to smother his moan with the pillow.

"Christ, Glenn."

Two fingers pressed in alongside his tongue and curled to press against his prostate. Daryl's breath left him in a groan.

Daryl was never one for much prep and soon he was pulling away from Glenn and sitting up on his knees. Glenn took the hint and slicked up his cock, shuffling forward on his knees so he could line it up with Daryl's hole.

He took his time easing in, gentle rocking that eventually seated his cock in as far as he could press. And even after that he moved with the shallowest of thrusts.

Daryl growled and shoved back into Glenn, reaching back to claw at his thigh. "Stop being such a damn tease."

Glenn didn't need to be told twice and rammed hard into the older man on the next stroke. And the next and the next.

Leaning up and bracing his forearm against the wall above the bed, Daryl's other hand gripped his cock in a tight fist and began pumping it in time to Glenn's thrusts. He pressed his forehead against his arm and squeezed his eyes shut tight, letting the sensations wash over him.

Glenn circled his hips, grinding his pelvis hard against Daryl's ass. One arm slipped around the older man's chest and pulled them flush together while his other hand stroked down from Daryl's hip across his belly and down to tangle his fingers with Daryl's around his cock. Daryl muffled a moan against his forearm and pumped his fist faster, pressing back against Glenn for more.

Glenn, never one to be silent during sex, tucked his chin over Daryl's shoulder and began murmuring against his ear. His words were shameless and Daryl's already flushed skin grew hotter and he pressed his face into his arm. Glenn sucked on his earlobe and helped pump their fists on Daryl's leaking cock faster.

Daryl came with a great heaving shudder that wracked his entire body and a hoarse cry he smothered against his arm. Glenn worked him through it, milking his cock and rocking his hips until he too came with a cut off cry that he muffled into Daryl's sweaty neck.

Even with the stove warming the house Daryl and Glenn's little room was still fairly cool, especially with sweat drying on their skin.

Glenn cleaned them up and pulled Daryl down against his bare skin in their nest of quilts and blankets. Daryl allowed the manhandling and rumbled in contentment as he wrapped an arm around Glenn's ribs. He kissed the side of the younger man's head.

"Not sure who got the better deal on that present. Hope ya had a good birthday though, kid."

Glenn grinned and pulled a quilt up over them. "The best."

––

The spring was always a busy time on the farm. There was hay to cut, crops to plant, animals to tend, and all manner of other projects that a self-reliant homestead had to accomplish to survive at the end of the world.

Glenn and Hershel had spent most of the day working in their massive greenhouse.

Glenn had taken an interest in the whole process and it turned out he had quite a green thumb. So Hershel had enlisted him in the greenhouse early on, which was now currently home to hundreds of delicate little seedlings sprouting from the soil.

Most of their crops had done fairly well over the last few years but last summer their tomatoes, squash, and peppers had been stunted, some sort of fungus in the soil, and hadn't produced well at all. Hershel was taking special care to ensure their success this year and was babying them along.

Daryl had helped them haul fertilizer around earlier in the day (nothing like shoveling chicken manure to start your morning) and spent the rest of the afternoon working on the hide of their old herd bull that they'd slaughtered a few days before after Hershel decided that his calf-siring days were over. Daryl hadn't been particularly sad to see him go, never having cared much for the bull ever since the animal had delivered a brutal kick to his thigh, painfully close to some rather sensitive anatomy, their first winter on the farm. The animal had nearly gored him on a couple of other occasions so Daryl was definitely not his biggest fan.

It was still cool enough that they could hang the quarters of the carcass up in one of their underground cellars to let them age before they finished processing them. What they didn't plan to eat right away would be smoked or salted and stored away. The waste would be ground up and used to feed the dogs and supplement the chickens' feed.

While Daryl prepared the hide to be salted, scraping off all of the membrane and fat, he also worked on rendering some of the fat he had saved from around the bull's kidneys. Leaf fat as it was called was supposed to be some of the best tasting fat on a cow and Daryl wanted to try an experiment with it. So he set up a pot over a low little fire and cooked it down.

He stirred and checked on it throughout the day, making some new arrows and sharpening his knives in the meantime once the cow skin was salted, and after a few hours he used a cheesecloth to strain the impurities from the tallow.

He saved some of the fat from the hide as a treat for the dogs and carried the rest that he had cooked down over the fire into the house. And then immediately back out of the house as Maggie yelled at him to go wash off first.

Glenn met him at the well spout, crouching down to scrub the dirt and fertilizer off his hands. He wrinkled his nose at Daryl.

"You smell like a dead cow."

"Yeah well you smell like chicken shit."

Glenn snickered and shook the water off his arms. He nodded down at the large mason jar full of rendered beef fat at Daryl's feet. "So what are you gonna do with that anyway?"

"Fry up some of the best damn french fries you ever had. And I'm gonna make steaks too. Everyone else is on their own for dinner tonight."

Which was decidedly not the case as soon as word got out that french fries were being prepared.

After delegating the potato washing and peeling to Carl, Beth, and Glenn ("Ya'll gonna eat 'em then you're gonna help."), Daryl started on the steaks. Carol hovered in the background, more than glad for a break from kitchen detail, and offered to get Daryl one of those 'Kiss the Cook' aprons. Glenn snickered none too quietly and Daryl grumbled as Carol patted him on the shoulder and left them to it.

Once the potatoes were ready Daryl cut the spuds into thin strips and laid them in a pot with about two inches of the heated tallow bubbling in the bottom. He fried them until they were crispy and brown, put some salt, pepper, and garlic salt on them and then set them aside to start on the next batch.

By the time Daryl was done he had several ridiculously large mountains of fries piled high on plates and platters.

The rest of the group descended on the food like locusts as Carl helped Daryl finish the steaks. Once they were done Daryl was quick to snatch up a plate full of fries and a steak and retreat from the hot and cramped kitchen while the others declared their undying love for his deliciously greasy creation.

Glenn joined him to sit on the front porch with his own plate.

"I think you made a big mistake back there. Everyone's going to want these all the time now." He grinned around a mouthful.

Daryl chuckled and gnawed on a few more fries. "Just gonna have to wait 'til I get another junk food craving. We need to figure out how to make some damn ketchup in the meantime."

"I'll grow the tomatoes and you can figure it out from there."

"That ain't hardly fair when you've got me shoveling the shit to grow your tomatoes,_ farm boy._"

"Well _Gordon Ramsay_, sometimes life's not fair." Glenn licked the salt off his fingertips, smiling mischievously at the older man.

Daryl snatched a handful of fries from the dwindling supply on Glenn's plate and smirked at his disgruntled cry. "Nope, it sure ain't."

––

There was a town library was about five miles east of the farm. Rick's group had picked over most of the stores, houses, and other buildings near it but the little two-story Victorian style building had never been touched. There always seemed to be more urgently needed supplies to gather and never enough time to warrant a stop solely for some dusty old paperbacks. But as time passed, they were finding themselves in dire need of some fresh entertainment. The books they had collected here and there had been passed around the household time and time again until the contents of the pages were practically memorized by all.

They were also in short supply of children's books.

The street in front of the library was empty of walkers as they approached. The woods and fields, which were beginning to reclaim said street and all the buildings around it, were still and silent but for late spring birdsong and insect calls.

Their horses carefully picked their way through the bones, trash, and other debris scattered across the road.

Daryl slid down from his saddle on Frank's back and tied the black and white stallion's reins around a sign on the sidewalk that declared this to be a historical district. Glenn walked San D. up next to him and handed Daryl his reins to tie while he gathered up their packs and supplies.

Glenn shouldered his backpack and carried the bolt cutters to the front door where a small padlock had been placed years ago. It was cheaply made and growing rusty from exposure to the elements.

The lock gave easily and after wrenching the door open they began clearing the dark, musty building.

There were two walkers by the reception desk but they were so decayed they didn't even appear to be active anymore. Glenn drove his machete down into their skulls just to be on the safe side.

There was a back door that had been kicked in at some point, splintering the trim all around the edges, but now had a board nailed across it from the inside. Glenn's flashlight illuminated a locked door that presumably led to the second level but it was secure and after tucking a chair under the doorknob they ignored it in favor of gathering what they had come for first. The rest of the main floor was clear.

Daryl shouldered his crossbow and he and Glenn both headed for the children's section.

"First thing's first. Find a copy of _The Very Hungry Caterpillar._ We' re starting Judith off right on her journey through the wonderful world of the written word."

Daryl snorted and snagged a copy of the book off a shelf when he spotted it. "I remember a younger cousin of mine having a bunch of books about dragons and unicorns and rabbits 'n shit that Little Asskicker might like. Something about sea serpents?"

Glenn grinned at Daryl. "_Serendipity_! I remember those! I had one about a goat called Raz-ma-Taz. We've definitely gotta find some of those for her."

Glenn's pack was growing heavy with books for Judith after just a few minutes, including a well-worn copy of _Flutterby_. Next they moved on to the instructional how-to guides (Glenn grinned at Daryl's barely suppressed delight at finding several old Foxfire books) and poked around for anything that might be useful reference material for building, farming, and first aid. They found a surprising number of wilderness survival guides and over a dozen books about guns and other weapons. They grabbed a few of the useful looking ones, leaving the more gimmicky titles to decay on the shelves.

And after that it was on to the list of specific titles the group had sent with them to hunt for. Fantasy, history, romance, they picked through practically every section.

Glenn disappeared for a few moments while Daryl had his nose buried in a book about the town's local history, gnawing on his thumbnail as he read. When he looked up again there was a copy of _The Joy of Gay Sex_ being shoved into his face. Daryl barked out a laugh (despite the tips of his ears turning bright red) and shoved it back at Glenn who was waggling his eyebrows at him.

"Why in the hell does this tiny-ass Bible belt town have -that- in their library?"

"I dunno but I'm thinking it might come in handy. Already saw a few things in it that I want to try out…"

"You ain't sticking that in with the kid books. Put it in the other pack."

"I totally knew you'd want to take it back too. It's very inspiring." He winked and then faster than Daryl gave him credit for, reached out and slapped the older man on the ass.

Daryl made a grab for him but Glenn was anticipating the retaliation and he jumped over the reception desk and out of reach. It wasn't terribly graceful and he landed hard on his side but he was laughing the whole time. Daryl was halfway over the counter after him when there was a loud thump and a crash from the floor above them. Both men froze and held their breath.

Another crash was followed by slow scraping and dragging sounds. Glenn's breathing had quickened and Daryl reached out to offer him a hand up.

The door to the second floor was locked from the inside but it wasn't constructed of terribly high quality material. Two hard kicks from Daryl's boot splintered the wood and flung it open.

There was a flight of questionable-looking bare wood stairs that curved out of sight. Before they could even start up the stairs a very decayed walker in an army uniform fell down them, landing in a heap at their feet in it's desperation to reach fresh meat.

Daryl fired a bolt into its brain.

They stepped over the downed walker and carefully made their way up the stairs. The second floor was a large open loft room that mostly consisted of bookshelves and boxes full of unsorted books. An area near the far wall had been cleared of debris and turned into a bedroom. Sleeping pad, back pack, empty cans strewn about. There was a long smear of very old blood on the floor, a dried pool, and then faded footprints in it scattered all across the open floor space.

Once they were sure the room was clear, both men began snooping through the loft. Glenn noticed a handle sticking out from under the stained pillow on the sleeping pad. He carefully pulled it free and made a delighted noise at what he found. It was a vicious looking sixteen inch parang machete, longer with a more curved blade than his own machete, in a custom made leather sheath. Glenn grinned and waved it at Daryl. "Dibs."

Daryl smirked and held up a M4A1 assault rifle and a metal ammunition box half full of cartridges for it. "Then I get this."

Glenn groaned sullenly as he attached the parang to his belt. Daryl laughed at him and gave Glenn a playful shove as he passed by to investigate the rest of the room.

They didn't find any other weapons or any useful supplies but Glenn did spy something in one of the dusty boxes of books that peeked his interest just as they were heading back downstairs to leave. He picked it up reverently and quickly tucked it away in his backpack, not wanting Daryl to see it just yet.

He kept having to bite his tongue to keep the stupid grin off his face for the rest of the day.

––

"Ow. _Ouch_. Fuck! Shit, fuck!"

Daryl snorted and glanced over his shoulder. "Having fun?"

"No. These goddamn briars are everywhere!" Glenn hissed as he pulled a few out of his fingers.

"You're picking blackberries. Briars are part of it."

Glenn stuck his middle finger up in Daryl's direction. Daryl threw an overripe blackberry at the younger man, hitting him on the ear with it and splattering juice across his cheek. Glenn cursed and threw a fistful of them back at Daryl.

"Am I going to have to separate you two? Keep misbehaving and you won't get any cobbler tonight." Carol grinned and set down her full bucket of berries, swapping it out for an empty one.

Mutters of "no ma'am" and "sorry" were their responses and Carol snickered to herself and she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. She loved those boys.

It was late in the afternoon but the sun was still blazing hot. June bugs and bees buzzed around them and they shooed the insects away with fingers stained purple from berry juice.

Massive thunderheads were beginning to form towards the northwest and a breeze that smelled like damp earth stirred the humid air.

They collected their buckets of berries and headed back to the house.

Daryl had watch from five pm until midnight and since Glenn didn't have any chores that needed his attention he was planning to sit with Daryl for the evening.

Their dinner consisted of steaks (Daryl seemed to take particular enjoyment out of those cuts of meat and Glenn remembered that they'd come from the old herd bull), fried potatoes, and green beans, all tucked away in containers in a basket. In another container was a large hunk of blackberry cobbler to share.

Tucked underneath the food at the bottom was a package wrapped in a black bandana.

Glenn carried the basket out to the windmill watch post at a steady trot in an attempt to beat the rain.

The landing they built in the windmill tower had grown more comfortable over the years with little adjustments being made here and there. It started out as just a bare floor, then a high roof was added, along with a low wood plank wall around three sides after too many near disasters when whoever was on watch grew tired or became distracted and nearly fell from their perch.

Forgoing the creaky old lawn chairs, Glenn and Daryl sat on the open side of the landing by the ladder, their feet dangling over the edge and the plates of food in their laps. They ate in relative silence, watching the rain clouds roll in.

Once the cobbler was finished they held their hands out in the gentle rain to wash off their sticky fingers. Glenn wiped his hands off on his jeans and reached back towards the basket. Package in hand, he turned to face Daryl with a mischievous grin. Daryl eyed him suspiciously.

"Hey. I got ya something." Still grinning, Glenn handed Daryl the fabric wrapped package.

"If this is that sex book I'm gonna kick your ass."

Glenn look offended. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm saving that for your birthday."

Daryl punched Glenn in thigh and after yelping Glenn erupted into giggles and shoved the package back at Daryl.

"I'm gonna take it back if you keep that up. Still got the receipt and everything."

Daryl rolled his eyes but untied the bandana around the package to reveal a book. A book that he stared at in his hands for a long moment. When he finally started to speak and it took him a few tries to find any words.

"Where the hell did you find this?"

The book was a very well worn copy of _San Domingo: The Medicine Hat Stallion_ by Marguerite Henry. It was a newer printing than the one Daryl had read over and over as a child but it was still the same beloved story that he had told Glenn a few times from memory. It was also where their own horse with the medicine hat markings, San D., took his name.

"I found it upstairs in one of those boxes of books at the library." He grinned and leaned in to kiss Daryl's unshaven cheek while the man continued to gape at the book.

Daryl finally tore his attention away from the gift to reach out and grab Glenn by the neck, pulling him in for a rib-crushing embrace that made his spine pop in a fairly uncomfortable way.

Glenn was sure he'd have a catch in his back tomorrow but the look on Daryl's face as he pulled back from the hug to kiss Glenn was more than worth it.

––

"Rick is going to kill you guys, you know that right?"

Daryl startled awake from his impromptu doze. The book he'd been reading from (it was very hard for Glenn to not smile when he noticed that it was _Flutterby_) slid off his chest and hit the floor with a dull thud. The little girl tucked against Daryl's side yawned and blinked big, deceivingly innocent eyes up at Glenn.

Curled up in her chubby arms was a tiny black kitten. The calico mother cat was stretched out on the bed near Daryl's bare feet. Her bright green eyes sized Glenn up for a moment before drifting shut again.

"They're the only ones left, Glenn! All the others got eat up by that fox."

As of very early that morning the bushy tail and red hide from the fox in question was hanging up to dry in the barn thanks to Daryl. Unfortunately he'd been too late to save the other two kittens (and one of their good egg-laying hens).

"Judith we talked about this before, remember? Your dad's allergic to cats. Having them inside will make him sick."

"Not if we keep them up here in you 'n Uncle Daryl's room!" She whispered loudly.

Daryl stretched his legs out, careful not to jostle the mother cat in the process, and crossed them at the ankles.

"She's got a point, Glenn. When does Rick ever come up here?"

Glenn huffed and slapped Daryl's thigh before shoving him and in turn Judith over so he could lay down beside them. "You know I love them too but don't make me play bad cop. We can't keep them cooped up here all the time. And besides, Daryl shot the fox."

Judith's bottom lip wobbled and she sniffled, peering over Daryl's chest at Glenn. She clutched the kitten tighter against her and it mewed softly. "But Uncle Glenn, I don't want them to get eat up! There could be more foxes. And there's walkers too! And-and maybe even a bear!"

Daryl mouthed "oh my" and winked at Glenn. The younger man sighed and reached up to yank his baseball cap from his head, flinging it across the room in the direction of the coat rack.

"Okay what if we just kept them in here at night until the kitten is big enough to fend for himself? That way they could play and catch mice all day and at night we'd keep them in where it's safe. How about that?"

Judith squealed and jumped across Daryl (her knee planting itself firmly in his stomach) to give Glenn a hug with one arm. The other was still wrapped around the very tolerant and well behaved kitten.

"Thank you! I'll help sneak them in!"

Daryl sat up so his back was propped against the pillows and wall behind him. "Fine with me but make sure you don't breathe a word of it to your daddy."

Judith wriggled down between Glenn and Daryl to curl up with the kitten in her lap. She smiled and offered each of the men one of her little fingers. "Pinky swear."

And so sneaking two cats into the house and up the creaky stairs to their tiny little room by the attic became a nightly ritual.

They were caught by the end of the first week.

But as little Judith so maturely argued, Rick hadn't been feeling sick or sneezing during the past week so apparently having them confined to the upstairs room didn't bother his allergies.

Rick found himself at the mercy of those big blue eyes and he caved to her demands far more quickly than he would ever like to admit. Daryl and Glenn didn't get off his shit list quite as easily but things settled down soon enough after they took over a few extras rounds of watch.

Daryl named the black kitten Angus and he and Judith were utterly enamored with the tiny cat. Daryl made toys out of chicken feathers and string one morning and grinned into his coffee while watching Judith drag them through the yard with Angus bounding along behind her in the dew covered grass.

Once he was weaned his calico mother decided she preferred the barn to the small attic room but her offspring was thoroughly spoiled and made himself right at home at the foot of Daryl and Glenn's bed every night. Or sometimes sprawled between them. Or on them.

Glenn woke one morning and smiled when he felt Daryl's heat still in bed behind him. The other man was usually an early riser and Glenn rarely woke before him. With an indulgent sigh, he rolled over to face Daryl but quickly had to fight down laughter at the sight that greeted him.

Grinning like a fool, he snuggled down further into the blankets and pillows and just took in the far too amusing visual for a few moments longer before he leaned forward and kissed Daryl on the nose. A line appeared between the other man's drawn brows but he soon sighed in sleepy contentment when Glenn kissed him again and murmured softly against his chapped lips.

"Babe. You've got something on your head."

Daryl hmm'ed into his pillow. Glenn tangled their bare legs together under the covers.

"It looks like some sort of furry growth."

Daryl rumbled and reached out to gather Glenn in tight against his chest, his eyes still closed. "I know."

Glenn snickered and stroked his fingers along the arm Daryl had wrapped around his side. "So why is there a furry growth on your head?"

Daryl huffed at the teasing attempt to drag him into consciousness. He squinted one eye open at Glenn for only a moment. "He likes it there."

And sure enough, Angus seemed quite content draped over and curled around Daryl's head. The black kitten's face was hidden from view in Daryl's long dark hair and a constant, low purr was vibrating its way out of him.

Glenn smiled and kissed Daryl's scruffy cheek before tucking his head up under the older man's jaw and wrapping his arm around his waist. His eyes drifted shut again and he sighed. "I like it here too."

––

"Will you read San Domingo to me some time?"

Daryl stared incredulously at the man sprawled across his chest. When he didn't respond Glenn propped his chin on Daryl's breast bone and smiled at him. "Please?"

"'Why? Just a silly kid's book."

"You're always saying what a kid I am so I think you should read it to me. And, most importantly, because I want you to."

Daryl snorted and scrubbed his fingers through Glenn's hair to make it stick out in messily. "S'alot of reasons you got there."

"Pick the one you like best and run with it."

"I like the 'go to sleep now and maybe I'll think about it later' option. It's late."

Glenn huffed and pinched Daryl's side, all the while doing his best to suppress a yawn. "You're no fun."

"Nope, m'not."

"How about I blow you while you read?"

The scandalized look on Daryl's face at the mere idea was enough to make Glenn erupt into a fit of giggles. Daryl quickly recovered and thumped Glenn's head none too gently with the palm of his hand.

"You are such a dirty pervert. Good Lord."

"Don't even pretend like you don't love it. And I mean it, okay? I want you to read it to me some time. Whether or not we incorporate sexy times into the fun." He yawned and snuggled down into the blanket pile, resting his head on Daryl's shoulder and throwing a leg across his hips.

Daryl snorted and reached out to turn the oil lamp off. "Deal."

––

The entire household was woken early one morning in August by the dogs howling frantically and the thick, heavy scent of smoke in the air.

Scrambling for boots and weapons everyone raced outside only to be greeted by the sight of dark clouds of smoke billowing up into the sky about a mile behind the farm.

The fields were on fire.

It was the driest summer they'd had in a while and during the night a heat storm had filled the sky with strobe light-like lightning. Rick decided against having anyone on watch after the storm really became severe around one in the morning for fear of lightning hitting the windmill lookout post. A strike must have landed in the brittle grass and weeds of the untended, overgrown rear fields some time after that.

The wind was blowing towards them from off the flames, bringing with it a taste of the intense heat the blaze was putting off.

Glenn's mouth was hanging open before he thought better of it and he caught a lungful of the acrid air. Coughing and sputtering he flung his arm up over his face to breathe through his sleeve.

Blinking back tears, he glanced around at the others. The barely concealed horror in the eyes of Rick and Hershel filled his guts with dread.

This was bad.

Behind him, still on the porch, Judith had started to cry in fear and confusion. Lori scooped her up and murmured softly into her hair. The animals in the corrals were screaming in panic and the dogs' howls were growing desperate.

"Rick? What do we do?"

Glenn heard Daryl hiss behind him. "Oh shit."

"What?"

"Look at the fire." The thin thread of fear curling through Daryl's voice made Glenn's heart stutter.

"Yeah it's kind of hard to miss it."

"No Glenn. Look at the fire. It's _moving._"

Glenn stared at the older man for a moment in confusion before looking more closely at the approaching inferno. And that's when he began seeing the silhouettes in the fire.

Walkers. What looked like a massive herd of them stumbling through the flames. Straight towards the farm.

"_Oh shit._"

Daryl was running back towards the house and shouting for Rick to follow. The others were taking notice of the walkers now.

As the years drew on their encounters with massive groups of walkers had grown fewer and further between. The last large herd they had seen had passed through last fall. Andrea had been on watch and spotted them when they were still nearly a mile away, giving the group time to put together a plan to draw them off with the cars and Daryl and Glenn on horseback, shouting and firing their guns as they led the herd a few miles away from the farm.

Now with no time to draw the walkers off their panic was threatening to overtake them until Rick, Daryl, Andrea, and Michonne began carrying weapons from the house out to the table on the porch. Rick reached for Lori and Judith, kissing them both and quietly telling his wife to stay in the house with their daughter. He made sure Lori had her pistol and plenty of ammo and then began loading the rest of the guns. Daryl whistled for the others to gather around the table.

They had a plan.

With masks, goggles, and bandanas covering their faces everyone but Carol, Beth, and Andrea worked to dig a massive trench between the house and the blaze. Picks, shovels, and hoes pounded into the earth, rending it open and stripping it bare of anything for flame to catch. Hershel even managed to get the ancient Ford tractor started and he used it to pull a plow back and forth across the dry ground.

All around them, gunshots thundered as Carol, Beth, and Andrea picked off walkers that got too close to the diggers and the tractor. Some of the undead fell shortly after being engulfed by the fire but many more still shuffled on, heedless of their bubbling and crackling skin and continuing to move as long as their brains remained uncooked.

As best as anyone could tell, there were less than a hundred active walkers left by the time they had to fall back from the trench because of the approaching heat. Glenn's skin felt like it was scorched and he gasped for air as they retreated towards the house. Daryl ran alongside him and when they stopped by the pond he felt the other man reach out and squeeze his arm. Blue eyes were puffy and rimmed with red but they burned bright and despite the black bandana covering his nose and mouth Glenn could tell Daryl was smiling.

"We got this."

Everyone began collecting as many buckets, totes, barrels, and any other container they could find to bring down to the pond. Once they were filled with water Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog, Michonne, and Carl began to dig another, smaller trench while the others carried some of the water towards the house to have as a last line of defense.

The fire stuttered as it hit the first trench. Thick black smoke was rising up and curling in the wind. The dull roar of the flames was beginning to be drowned out by the low moans of the walkers still moving through and around the fire. Another dozen or so were shuffling through the woods and right into the fire. It was light and heat and movement so of course they were attracted to it. Just like that night the old barn burned all those years ago.

Hershel wiped his face off with his handkerchief. "Like moths to a flame."

Andrea and Carl were still picking them off with well placed shots when the winds shifted.

The fire, already substantially smaller and having difficulty crossing the trench, was being pushed back on itself by the wind. With no fuel and no space it was choking itself out.

Exhausted and running on pure adrenaline, the group descended on the remaining flames with shovels and buckets of water. Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog shoveled dirt onto any new attempts the blaze made at rekindling itself while the others poured water over more. Andrea took out another dozen fiery walkers clustered together before they began to stumble off in numerous directions. Some continued on after the group while others, with brains about to burst from the heat, wandered around aimlessly. Those were the most dangerous ones because the flames still eating their clothing and skin were starting new, small fires all around the remains of the field and surrounding woods.

Daryl grabbed Glenn and they ran back towards the stable.

They saddled up their horses and reloaded their weapons. Just before they left the stable Daryl reached out for Glenn's reins and drew Frank and San D. up alongside one another so he and Glenn's legs were brushing together. Daryl pulled his bandana down and Glenn's filthy fingers grabbed the older man's equally filthy hair and pulled him close, crushing their lips together in a kiss that tasted like ash and sweat.

Daryl bumped his forehead against Glenn's when they pulled apart. He smirked as he spoke. "Hard part's over. Now it's time for some fun."

Glenn exhaled a slightly hysterical but mostly exhausted laugh. "And after that I'm dragging you to bed and we are sleeping for a week."

Daryl kissed him once more before pulling his bandana back over his face. "Sounds good to me."

Like a scene from some apocalyptic western tale, they blasted out of the stables and thundered down the slight hill towards the remains of the fire. They drew their machete and crossbow, with loaded guns on their hips for backup, and began hunting down the last walkers that left little trails of smoldering flames behind them as they stumbled through the parched woods and fields.

As they rode past the others Glenn watched Michonne take down a handful of walkers with her katana and T-Dog was bashing in the skulls of more with a crowbar. Rick and Andrea were picking off more corpses with their pistols while the others finished smothering out the last of the initial blaze and the few smaller ones the walkers had started.

In the end, it was late in the evening before they finally extinguished all of the flames and tracked down the last of the walkers. Glenn almost fell out of his saddle when he and Daryl rode the sweaty and tired horses back to the stable but the older man reached out a hand to steady him. The two of them had spent most of the afternoon riding all over the surrounding countryside looking for any undead stragglers. They had tracked one slightly crispy walker a few miles from the farm where it had joined up with another small herd of about thirty that were passing through, drawn close by the commotion. They took them out easily enough and once they could find no signs of any others they headed back home.

After feeding, watering, and wiping down the horses and putting away their tack, Daryl checked in with Rick and Hershel. No serious damage and no injuries aside from some bruises and a few burned fingers. They had been damn lucky.

With T-Dog and Carl on watch and everyone else cleaned up and inside for the night Daryl set his sights on Glenn.

He was nearly dead on his feet but Daryl drug him to the little outdoor shower they had built last year. It consisted of a 30 gallon water heater tank mounted inside an insulated hot box that they attached to the top of one of the smaller outbuildings. A pipe ran down from it to a shower head in a single stall. Pretty handy after coming home covered in guts and grime and too filthy to go in the house to clean up. When the sun was out for a few hours the water was even warm but they were too tired and their skin was too scorched to care about that now.

Daryl carefully stripped Glenn of clothes covered in soot and sweat and walker blood. After removing his own clothing and dumping it all in a pile on the ground he pulled Glenn into the shower stall and turned the water on. Glenn cursed at the cool spray but after a moment it woke him up a bit and it felt heavenly on his overheated skin.

He leaned into Daryl and rested his forehead on the older man's shoulder. Daryl's skin was streaked with black ash and dirt but he started washing Glenn first. With a bar of soap in one hand and a rough washcloth in the other he gently rubbed and stroked the younger man clean starting with his hair and working his way down, mindful of a few bruises and scrapes he encountered.

Glenn moaned and buried his face into Daryl's neck when strong fingers dug into a few knots over his shoulder blades. "Fuck. Shit, you missed your calling as a masseuse, you know that right?"

Daryl snorted and turned to kiss Glenn's cheek before leaning back. "Lemme wash off before we run out of water and I'll do some more of that when we get inside."

"Tease." Glenn grinned and stayed pressed against Daryl to enjoy the up close view of the shift of muscles under tanned skin as he quickly scrubbed himself clean. He attempted to help which turned into clumsy groping and fondling with soap slick fingers before Daryl laughed and swatted him away.

"We ain't got any clothes out here to change into and I really don't wanna run through the house hidin' a stiffy under a towel."

"I dunno, the girls would probably like that. And I know I would." He bit and sucked at Daryl's chin and jaw and grabbed him by the ass to pull him against Glenn. Their dicks rubbed together and both men groaned. "Or we could take care of that before we go back inside."

"Figured you'd be too tired for this tonight. We've had a hell of a day." He leaned forward to mouth at the pink scar on Glenn's shoulder and the younger man shuddered.

"I figured -you'd- be too tired for this." He smirked and wrapped one arm around Daryl's shoulders while his free hand pinched at his nipples.

Daryl hissed at the sensation. "Never too tired for this."

Glenn leaned up to suck on his earlobe. "Liar."

Biting at Glenn's clavicle, Daryl growled and pushed him up against one of the walls. He reached out and turned the water off so there would still be some left when they were finished.

Glenn grabbed him roughly by the hair and pulled him in for a biting kiss. Daryl fought him for control and thrust his tongue into Glenn's mouth, moaning as Glenn scraped his blunt nails down his back. He grabbed the younger man by the ass and lifted him up against the wall. Glenn locked his legs around Daryl's waist and bit at his tongue. "If you don't fuck me right now I'm stealing all the towels and making you run back to the house in your birthday suit-ah!"

Two slick fingers thrust deep into him and Glenn tossed his head back against the shower wall with a loud thud. Daryl pressed his fingers in even deeper, crooking them to hit the younger man's prostate as he leaned forward to suck on Glenn's neck. "I can play dirty too, sweetheart."

A third finger pressed into him and Glenn ground his hips down against them. He leaned forward to babble against Daryl's wet skin. "Now, now, now. That's enough, I'm ready, come on."

Daryl spread and scissored his fingers a few moments longer before pulling them free and spitting into his hand. He reached down to stroke himself, getting his cock good and slick before pressing up against Glenn's entrance and carefully easing in.

Glenn moaned wantonly and clawed his nails into Daryl's skin again, rocking his hips and bearing down on the thick heat of the cock filling him to try and urge Daryl to move. "Come on, move. Make me feel it. We survived another day, make me remember that. Make me feel alive, Daryl."

Daryl exhaled sharply and looked up from where they were joined to lock eyes with Glenn. He pulled nearly all the way out and then slammed back in with a hard thrust that made their skin smack wetly and caused Glenn's toes to curl. And then he pulled back and repeated the motion. Again and again, rocking Glenn up against the wall and grinning breathlessly at the cries of pleasure that escaped Glenn's lips with each forceful thrust.

It couldn't last, not when Glenn couldn't catch his breath, couldn't fucking see for the cloud of intense lust and sensation that surrounded him. He reached down to pull at his own dick once, twice, and just as his orgasm crashed into him Daryl shoved his cock deep, grinding his hips into Glenn viciously. A high wail just started to slip free of his lips but Daryl found his mouth and swallowed the sound down while Glenn's come painted across both of their bellies.

Daryl came hard within Glenn's tight heat as it clenched around him. He broke free of their kiss and dug his teeth into Glenn's shoulder to smother his sobbing moans.

They panted and trembled against each other for long moments. Daryl finally pulled out and eased Glenn down to his feet. He drew him back under the shower head and flicked it on to let the water pour over them again.

Daryl nuzzled against his temple and held Glenn tight against him. "Feel alive?"

Glenn hmm'ed and kissed Daryl's jaw. "More than ever."

––

Some days Daryl would slip into an unbreakable, brutally bad mood. As life on the farm settled and he found his place with his patchwork family it became a rarer and rarer occurrence over the years. But it still happened every now and then and even Glenn and Judith couldn't get him out of it.

Some times there was an obvious reason for it like several days of lousy hunting or some piece of machinery on the fritz. Other times it was because of his temper and hardheadedness butting up against some plan of Andrea's or an opinion of Rick's. He would swear and spit and snarl and then there'd be a flash of recognition in his eyes. He would mutter something about taking over watch and remove himself from the company of others for a few hours to cool off. Glenn knew when to give him his space, could practically see the little storm cloud over his head, but he also knew when to carry out a plate of dinner to share as a peace offering.

And some times it was because his own body was out to get him.

Daryl found himself well on his way to one of those moods today. The morning after the fire Daryl woke up with a vicious, head-splitting migraine. He had been drug into consciousness about an hour before dawn when it felt like someone was taking a hammer and chisel to his skull. After easing himself out of Glenn's octopus-like grasp and Angus' sleeping sprawl over his hip he quickly dressed and slipped downstairs. No one else was up yet and the house was quiet as he swiftly made his way outside, where he proceeded to empty the meager contents of his stomach into the bushes.

Rick was on watch. Daryl saw the man rise from his chair and start down the windmill towards him but he waved him off and slipped around behind the house.

He didn't want to go back inside, fearful of another round of heaving and he didn't want the entire household hovering over him. He loved them – he was man enough to admit that – and would do anything for them, but they could really piss him off when they all had him in their sights to fuss over at once. So instead, he found himself drawn to the dark, quiet peace of the horse stable. It was a chilly morning and scents of sweet dry hay and well-oiled leather were soothing. He scooped up a small bucket that was sitting near the door and carried it with him.

Daryl tucked himself and his bucket into the back corner of an empty stall next to Frank's and wrapped his horse blanket poncho tightly around his body. Frank whuffled softly at him, leaning over the wall to sniff at his hair. He brushed his knuckles against the stallion's nose and the horse lipped at his fingers before leaning back into his own stall to stand watch. Daryl drew his knees up to rest his hot forehead against them and closed his eyes while the pounding grew worse. The stallion's deep, slow breaths nearby soon lulled him into an uneasy doze.

Daryl woke a short time later to the too-loud sounds of someone attempting to walk softly towards him and Frank giving them away with a sharp nicker. Daryl shifted so his posture appeared a little more alert but paled when his stomach lurched ominously.

Glenn – sleepy-eyed and sporting a head of wild bed hair – peered into the stall. His worry was obvious by the draw of his brows but before he could even open his mouth Daryl snarled at him through gritted teeth.

"_Out._"

A raised eyebrow was the only response he received. Or at least the only one he noticed because moments later his head was over the bucket while his stomach rebelled against him again. Glenn was still there when his guts righted themselves.

"Glenn. I fucking mean it." He spat, face growing hot with anger and embarrassment.

It felt like there was an icepick being rammed into his eye socket and he bit back a groan, setting the bucket aside and resting his head back against the rough lumber of the stall wall.

"I ain't bit or nothing, s'just a stupid fucking headache. Quit being so goddamn nosy and _go back inside._"

Glenn shuffling forward through the hay was far too loud and he bared his teeth to snap at him again but suddenly there was a cool wash cloth on his forehead and equally cool fingers carding gently through his hair. He damn near sobbed at the soothing sensations but instead used the touch to ground himself.

His guts churned again but it was nothing but dry heaves.

They stayed in the stable for a couple of hours. Daryl would get fed up with feeling so shitty and start to leave every hour or so but would end up swaying and stumbling and then swearing at Glenn for making him sit back down again while he bit back another wave of nausea.

Carol came down at one point with some water and flatbread crackers. Glenn met her just inside the stable so she wouldn't invoke any of Daryl's wrath. After she left Glenn checked on the horses and made sure they all had hay and water. Frank and San D. were still worn out from their wild walker-slaying adventure the day before but they seemed content enough.

Late in the afternoon Daryl drifted into consciousness from a hazy sleep. He sighed in relief to discover his migraine was gone. His head still hurt like hell but now it was just a headache and not the skull crushing, gut churning throb of the migraine.

Glenn was beside him, wrapped up in a thin blanket and watching him with soft brown eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Head's better. Stomach too." Daryl leaned up so he was sitting up with his back against the wall behind him. He gnawed on his bottom lip and then his thumbnail before catching Glenn's eye again.

"Sorry for being such a dick before."

"Nothing to be sorry for. I've had those before too and they are awful."

Glenn scooted closer to Daryl and leaned in so they were pressed together from shoulder to hip.

"Must'a been all that smoke and shit we breathed in yesterday."

"Probably. The air still stinks with it all. Carol said Andrea's sick and got a bad headache today too."

"We'll have to do something about those walker bodies soon. The ones that didn't burn up anyway." Daryl sighed.

Glenn pressed closer against Daryl and spread his blanket out over both of them. He could feel the older man's breathing beginning to even out again. He pressed a kiss to Daryl's temple and closed his own eyes.

"They can wait another day."

––

It had to be one of the hottest summers yet.

And for some utterly insane reason, Daryl decided they were in need of more firewood. It was early enough that the air wasn't quite unbearable yet but Glenn was still unwilling to move very far from under the shade tree. He'd had the midnight to five am watch that morning and was contemplating an early siesta in their old hammock on the porch.

But he had been distracted by the show. So now he sat sprawled out in a lawn chair and spraying himself in the mouth and hair with a toy water pistol he'd found on their last run to cool off. From the heat in the air as well as that aforementioned show.

Glenn was entirely convinced that the sight of Daryl with his shirt off while he chopped wood was one of the sexist things he had ever seen.

Daryl barked out a laughed when Glenn shared this with him. With a sly smirk he reached up and wiped the sweat off his face, only to flick it at Glenn. It didn't phase the younger man as he'd intended.

"I saw a thing on the History Channel one time about how in Ancient Rome they would sell bottles of gladiator sweat and chicks that were hot for them would wear it as 'perfume.'"

Daryl blinked at him for a moment before shaking his head and tossing the wood he'd cut onto the existing pile against the shed. "You are so weird."

"Hey I didn't say I did it. But then again…" He dabbed at a drop of Daryl's sweat that had landed on his forearm and hmm'ed thoughtfully as he sucked water out of the toy gun. "Ode Dixon does have a nice ring to it."

Daryl pulled off the wifebeater he had draped around his neck and wiped off his chest and face before flinging the soaked undershirt at Glenn. "Ode to this, sweetheart."

It hit Glenn in the chest and the younger man groaned. "Ick."

The older man's laughter was muffled as he pulled his sleeveless t-shirt over his head. Something wet hit him in the back as reached to grab his water bottle. He froze and turned to glare at Glenn over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes.

"Did you just fucking shoot me with that thing?"

"You looked hot." Glenn grinned and blew imaginary smoke away from the barrel of the pistol.

"You're asking for it, kid."

Glenn laughed and squirted water at Daryl again, hitting him right in the face, and then Daryl charged at the younger man.

The chase didn't last long. Glenn fell over backwards while trying to get out of his chair and Daryl scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder to carry him the short distance to the pond.

They were both still sopping wet from a drawn-out water war followed by a brief makeout session in the pond when they returned to the house later for breakfast.

And Judith was delighted to be the recipient of a new toy water pistol.

Glenn made a deal with her that he could still borrow it from time to time though.

––

Glenn broke his arm on the first of September.

In the aftermath of the fire and the walker herd their ammunition stockpile had a significant dent in it. So Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne went on a run to a little town about forty miles south of the farm. Maggie and Hershel both remembered it having a small, locally owned sporting goods store as well as a hardware store close by. In addition to needing more ammo they were running low on little things like nails, screws, bolts, wire to repair a few fences, and they were always in need of extra tools.`

After the accidental discovery that duct tape and leather made for good defense against walker teeth when Daryl was bit several years ago now they always suited up before exploring an unknown area. Glenn and Michonne were both wearing long sleeves with a thick layer of duct tape over the fabric from their wrists to their elbows and then another section covering their upper arms. Daryl had his button-up biker shirt with the leather sleeves as well as his angel wing vest on. It was hot but it was not worth the risk to go without the protection.

The sporting goods store was a wild success. It had been picked through at some point but it had yet to be completely emptied like so many places they had scavenged through in the past. They found bolts and maintenance supplies for Daryl's crossbow, over a dozen boxes of .38, 9mm, .45, and .22 cartridges, a few cleaning kits for the guns, spare parts, and even a couple of rifles and a loaded .38 revolver tucked back in the employee storeroom. Daryl also found a few knives remaining in a display case. He caught Michonne eyeing them over his shoulder and he stepped aside to let her take her pick. She smirked at him and took two large hunting knives with leather sheaths and a smaller pocket knife for herself.

Daryl figured one of the big hunting knives would be for Andrea. Those two were damn near inseparable.

Kinda like him and Glenn he mused with a half smile.

Once the essentials were collected and stowed away in the car they each found a shopping cart and started collecting other useful goods. But not before getting sidetracked by the footwear section. They all three found new pairs of boots and filled up one cart with new shoes for the others back at the farm.

They filled up another cart with clothing, everything from socks to heavy down winter coats.

The last cart was for whatever random odds and ends might prove useful. Or good for entertainment. Daryl tossed in a football and Michonne grabbed some golf balls, tees, and a few clubs. Glenn found some new baseballs to go with the gear they already had back home. Fishing rods and gear, a few cans and pouches of freeze dried food with a ten year shelf life, a compass, several pairs of binoculars, water bottles, bungee cords, straps, rope, some tennis balls and other toys for the dogs, a dart board with some darts, and numerous other mismatched items were also tossed in the cart.

Daryl's prize was a hammock he found near the back of the store. The one he and Glenn had made that second summer was in rather sad shape.

Still riding the high of the goldmine they struck at the sporting goods store and after having yet to see a walker since they arrived in town, their guard was down at the ACE store.

Glenn kicked the door in and jumped back for Daryl with his crossbow and Michonne with her samurai sword to go in first. He brought up the rear with his parang machete he'd picked up back in the spring from the walker he and Daryl had found in the library. They each had handguns as well but those were always a last resort.

Daryl and Michonne started their sweep from the middle of the store. They would clear the building to each far wall and then meet back in the middle after it was deemed safe. Glenn moved towards the rear of the building to search the storeroom.

He was in trouble as soon as he pushed open the Employees Only door.

The walker had been a robust man at easily 6'5 and 350 pounds. Now it was missing most of its face and good portion of its neck causing its head to loll strangely. It was still fast and brutally strong – apparently a freshly turned corpse – and it was on Glenn before he could get his machete up high enough to swing it.

The walker's teeth clamped down on Glenn's duct tape covered forearm and with all of its force bearing down on him he lost his footing. His free hand flailed out to catch himself but he ended up landing hard with all of his and the walker's weight on it. There was a sickening snap and he was blinded by pain.

Glenn cried out and within seconds Daryl was at his side. A bolt speared through the massive walker's remaining eye with an explosion of gore and its rotten mouth went slack around Glenn's good arm.

Glenn was writhing in agony, desperate to get out from under the walker and get their combined weight off of his badly broken arm. As Daryl was trying to as gently as possible shove the corpse off of him another walker moaned behind them in the storeroom. This one was much older and slower and came crawling towards them but Michonne's sword stabbed into its skull before it could cross the metal threshold.

"Clear that and then help me with him." Daryl nodded to the storeroom and shouldered his crossbow, leaning down to help Glenn to his feet while Michonne made sure the rest of the building was empty.

Glenn's breath left him in a pained gasp as Daryl got an arm around him and lifted him to his feet. He got a good look at his injury then. Broken right above his wrist and bent at a disturbingly unnatural angle. He felt his stomach churn.

"Oh God..."

"S'okay, you're alright Glenn. C'mon, let's get you to that chair by the register."

They had to stop halfway to the front of the store so Glenn could vomit.

"Fuck. I never broke a bone before. Almost as bad as getting shot." He laughed a little hysterically.

"You're doubly lucky to have the duct tape. Bite didn't go through and it probably kept the break from being worse."

"Holy shit! I forgot he bit me too! What a fucking dick."

Just as Daryl settled Glenn into the chair they heard the sounds of a scuffle in the back storeroom. And then moans that grew louder with every passing moment.

Daryl had his crossbow up and reloaded when Michonne came running out of the room. She was splattered with dark walker blood and panting for breath. She slammed the door shut behind her and drug a couple of heavy metal toolboxes across the floor to block it. "Time to go!"

Daryl scooped Glenn up despite his protests ("My arm's broken, not my legs!") and Michonne grabbed Glenn's forgotten machete as well as a few things off the shelves and shoved them into her pack as she ran passed them for the door. Several boxes of nails and screws and a few tools to tide them over, some wooden shims, and a red employee polo shirt hanging next to the register that had belonged to someone named Erica B.

Michonne yanked the keys out of Daryl's back pocket as he helped Glenn into the backseat of the car before climbing in himself. She started it up and they peeled out of the parking lot with a spray of gravel just as over a dozen walkers tumbled out from the gated area behind the store.

"We need to get this duct tape off before your arm starts to swell."

Glenn groaned but nodded. "Today was so awesome before this."

Daryl pulled his swiss army knife out of his pocket . Using the tiny fold out scissors he gently cut at the elbow of Glenn's sleeve until the fabric was separated from the rest of the shirt. Then, much more slowly, he cut through the duct tape covered sleeve of Glenn's broken arm, splitting it open down the side. Glenn looked away, breathing quickly and trying his best not to puke again.

Using the long shims and cut up pieces of the soft employee polo shirt Michonne had picked up on the way out of the store, Daryl made a temporary splint and a sling for Glenn's arm.

"We'll get Hershel and Carol to set it when we get home. You okay?"

Glenn was pale and sweaty but he gave Daryl a half smile.

"Just peachy."

The car ride was long and slow. Michonne did her best to avoid the potholes and bumps but on roads that hadn't been serviced in years that was practically impossible.

Daryl had her stop at a little drug store they passed halfway back to the farm.

"Stay with him and keep the car running."

Daryl grabbed a shopping basket and started filling it with anything useful he could find. Most of the shelves were empty but a few had been knocked over (there was a long dead walker with a bullet hole in his forehead sprawled across one) and he found several boxes of Tylenol scattered across the floor underneath one. He almost left two boxes of Advil before snagging them to add to the farm's medical supply. Not the best for Glenn with his broken arm but they might come in handy for someone else later even if they were expired.

He found a few squished boxes of medical stockinettes, several rolls of plaster casting, a couple of wrist braces, and some bottles of multi-vitamins amidst the wrecked chaos of the store.

The back of the pharmacy was trashed but he still jumped over the counter and dug through scattered bags and baskets of prescriptions. Most were empty or broken open with their contents strewn across the floor. White pills, red pills, all slick and chalky from exposure.

Then he found gold.

Oxycodone. Three sealed bottles of it tucked away in a dark drawer. Expired now but fuck, he'd taken stuff with much older expiration dates than that before the world ended.

The car horn honked once just as he shoved the bottles into the basket. He scrambled back over the counter and raced out of the store.

Michonne had her window down and her 92FS Beretta aimed at a small cluster of walkers that were shuffling towards the car. She took down the two nearest to the pharmacy door as Daryl ran out and jumped back into the car.

Once they were clear of the parking lot and back on the main road Michonne glanced down at the overloaded basket in Daryl's lap. She smirked as she returned her gaze to the road.

"Everything but a sticker and sucker for the patient, huh?"

Daryl's ears turned red and he shifted uncomfortably, staring determinedly out the window. Glenn picked up on his ill-concealed embarrassment and perked up from the back seat. Cradling his broken arm against his chest, he leaned forward to look over Daryl's shoulder and into the basket.

"I always liked those temporary tattoos better. I rocked them like a total badass. Find any of those?"

Michonne was watching them from the corner of her eye as she drove, not even trying to hide her grin. Daryl's flush grew even more obvious. He sighed and reached into the bottom of the basket, pulling out a few crumpled X-men and Spiderman comic books that he'd found in the store. He handed them back to Glenn who suddenly found himself trying to decide if he could get away with crying and simply blame it on the pain in his arm.

"I fucking love you, Daryl Dixon."

––

It was late in the evening when they got back to the farm.

It was impossible to tell exactly what they were dealing with without x-rays but as best as Hershel could tell with his sensitive fingers, Glenn's radius was fractured. A classic example of a Colle's fracture where the radial head had snapped from the extreme force of Glenn and the walker's weight falling on it. Glenn's other arm was a swollen rainbow of bruises from the walker bite through the duct tape. They laid cool wet washcloths on it to help with the swelling and then went to work on the fracture.

Hershel had to realign the bone before he could put a splint on. They gave Glenn one of the oxycodones before they started and Daryl stayed by Glenn's side throughout the process. Even with the painkillers he still nearly had his hand crushed by letting Glenn squeeze it while Hershel and Carol worked by lamplight. An agonized shout slipped free of his clenched teeth when Hershel finally got the bone back into proper alignment and Glenn stomped his foot hard against the floor with a curse. Daryl could hear Lori comforting a whimpering Judith in the room down the hall, the little girl worried about her Uncle Glenn

Hershel squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll have to wait a few days before we can make a cast for it. Need to let that swelling go down first."

Glenn nodded and, being careful not to jostle his arm while Carol and Hershel adjusted some towels and a folded section of cardboard shaped to fit around it, leaned over to rest his head on Daryl's shoulder.

"It's like I'm getting all the stuff I should have had when I was a kid now that the world's ended. I never had the flu before that first year when we got it, never broke a bone before-"

"A common childhood ailment isn't usually getting shot in the shoulder though, son." Hershel arched one bushy eyebrow.

"Oh, well, there was that. But yeah, guess I'll have chickenpox next or something."

"Nice way to jinx yourself. You really never had chicken pox?" Daryl squeezed his hand gently, their fingers still entwined from earlier when the fracture had been reset.

"Nope. My mom was a total germaphobe and once she heard a couple of kids at my school had it she made me and my sisters stay home for a month so we wouldn't get sick. I lived a very sheltered life."

Carol was smiling as she worked, carefully wrapping gauze around Glenn's towel padded arm. "I was sick all the time as a child. Sofia was too. Measels, whooping cough, chicken pox, pink eye, every sort of cold and flu you can imagine, we both had it all."

"Merle was the same way. 'Least that's what my grandma said. I just had chicken pox and colds."

Once the splint was in place and secured with some duct tape Hershel stood and inspected his and Carol's work. "That should do it. We'll make a cast to put on it in once the swelling goes down a bit. Now you take it easy for a few days and don't overwork that arm. Keep it elevated and drink plenty while you take those painkillers." Hershel handed the bottle to Daryl who tucked it in his shirt pocket.

Carol folded up the remaining supplies and put them away in their large black leather bag of medical paraphernalia. She pulled out another bottle and handed it to Daryl. "Some of those vitamins you picked up will be helpful for him too. And Glenn, try to eat as much protein as you can. It's good for mending bones."

Daryl's overprotectiveness went into overdrive at that and he made Glenn a ridiculously large dinner of eggs, bacon, and sausage and hovered around him while he ate, waiting to shove more pills at him as soon as he was finished. Rick and a few of the others came into the kitchen to check on Glenn and Daryl made sure to cut the visiting short. Once he chased the others off he herded Glenn upstairs to their cluttered little room and towards the bed. Glenn's patience ran out when Daryl started to undress him. He flailed his good arm to make Daryl back away, determined to do something himself.

He hung his head in defeat after a few uncoordinated attempts at the buttons and finally let Daryl remove his clothes for him.

Later that night, Daryl was laying on his side next to Glenn who was stretched out on his back with his injured arm propped up on a stack of pillows beside him. Daryl was asleep but Glenn was wide awake and staring angrily at the wainscoting as if it was the cause of all his problems. He cursed quietly and Daryl woke.

"You know what the worst, and I mean absolute worst thing about all of this is?"

Daryl blinked the sleep out of his eyes and leaned up on an elbow to wait for Glenn to elaborate.

"This is my jerking off hand. I can't even fucking jerk off."

Daryl snorted quietly and shook his head. "Can't use your other hand?"

Glenn huffed and kicked at the tangle of quilt around his legs. "Already tried. Not the same."

Daryl's lips twitched in an aborted smile and after a moment he fixed Glenn with a dark stare. "Well. D'you want to?"

"What? Oh. Really?"

Daryl rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss Glenn. It was warm and sweet and far too short for Glenn's taste.

"Wouldn't of offered if I did. Roll over and lay on your side." Glenn did as he was told and Daryl piled a few pillows against his chest so he would have a place to rest his arm. Daryl leaned forward to press his own chest against Glenn's back, spooning up behind him so they were pressed tight together. Angus grumbled at the jostling and hopped off the bed to curl up on a stack of clean clothes by the closet door.

When warm fingers stroked up under Glenn's thin t-shirt to rub at his belly he sighed and closed his eyes.

Daryl drug his nails lightly up and down Glenn's middle, sliding up to scrape at his nipples and then trail back down the center of his stomach and across his side with firm, massaging strokes. When he reached the waistband of his boxer shorts he teased the skin just underneath the elastic before slipping his hand below.

Glenn was still wound tight from the day. His muscles were sore and tense, his head was fuzzy from the painkillers, and his arm ached but under Daryl's touch the stress was melting away, leaving him loose and pliant in the heat of the older man's arms. When Daryl's fist closed around his cock he shuddered and arched his hips into the contact.

Dry fingers explored his length, thumb pressing against the thick vein and then rubbing at the fluid gathering in the slit. Glenn moaned softly as Daryl pulled his hand away to drag Glenn's underwear down around his thighs, pulling his dick free. Daryl licked across his palm before returning it to stroke Glenn's swollen cock.

Daryl crooned softly into Glenn's throat as he worked his shaft with a slow, steady rhythm. Glenn hissed and thrust his hips on every downward stroke, back arching into the pleasure. He sobbed Daryl's name and the man ground his hips into Glenn's ass and sucked and licked at his neck and jaw.

Glenn bit into his own hand to quiet his cry as he came, panting and trembling violently through his orgasm. Daryl leaned over and kissed at his open mouth, licking past his lips and rumbling deep in his chest when Glenn returned the kiss. Still catching his breath, he mumbled into Daryl's mouth.

"Shit that was perfect. Now c'mon, get yours out." He reached back awkwardly with his good hand and fumbled with Daryl's half hard dick through his shorts.

Daryl kissed him again and gently pushed his hand away, shaking his head. "Later. You need to sleep now."

Daryl sat up and pulled his shirt off, using it clean the come off Glenn's belly and his own hand before tossing it across the room in the general direction of the other dirty clothes. Glenn laughed and arched back against Daryl's heat as he slid Glenn's underwear back into place.

"Mmm, now that is romantic."

Daryl snorted and reach down to pull the blankets back over them. "It was dirty anyway."

"Why were you wearing a dirty shirt to bed?"

"Because I couldn't find any damn clean ones and I was too tired to really give a shit."

Glenn scrunched his nose up. "That's gross."

"Don't sass the man that just gave you a 'perfect' handjob. 'S'bad manners."

"Well excuse me for not going to the same school of after-sex etiquette that you attended."

Daryl growled and bit Glenn's shoulder. "You're a brat. Go to sleep."

Glenn snickered and burrowed down into the blankets. He sighed in contentment when he felt one of Daryl's arms wrap around his waist. "Thanks for taking care of me today and for the comic books and for the awesome orgasm."

Daryl shook with quiet laughter before leaning forward to tuck his nose against Glenn' shoulder. His warm breath fanned out against his skin and Glenn could feel him smiling. "You're welcome."

––

Early one evening near the middle of October they all ended up outside to eat a massive supper. They had Judith to thank for that after Lori read her a story that involved a group of children having a picnic. She would not be appeased until they had their own outdoor feast.

The day had been spent getting one of the last cuttings of hay in for the winter. They had been lucky that the fire hadn't reached their main hay fields otherwise they would have had far too little to get their livestock through the cold months.

Now, with their hay piled high in the barn and all the other crops harvested and put away, all of the major fence repairs taken care of, a new root cellar dug out, and plenty of new warm clothing for winter, they were able to breathe a little again. And have a bit of fun.

Everyone gathered around the old wooden table under two large maple trees in front of the farm house. They set up a card table and some extra chairs that was intended to be the kids' table but it ended up seating Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog, and Carol once she finally stopped fussing with the food.

She, Beth, Lori, T-Dog, and Daryl had put together the meal that night. Glenn tried to help but between his mostly useless dominant arm and Daryl chasing him out of the kitchen every few minutes he ended up perched on the countertop, supervising. And sampling the fair.

They had cornbread and beans, venison steaks, mashed potatoes and gravy, greens from the gardens, and Carol made a pumpkin pie and one of Daryl's 'goddamn apple honey oat cakes' for dessert.

The dogs were sprawled out under the tables, one right up against Glenn's legs, waiting patiently for the scraps they knew were to come.

A few weeks had passed since Glenn broke his arm and it was slowly on the mend. Hershel and Carol made a cast for him with a medical stockinette, some felt, and the plaster casting Daryl found in the pharmacy.

He woke up from a nap on the living room couch to Judith drawing flowers and hearts on it with a purple sharpie marker a few days ago.

Glenn was getting better at using that hand for simple tasks but his whole arm had a deep ache to it even with the occasional painkillers Daryl could coax him into taking. Everyone that had ever broken a bone assured him it would be like that for a while.

He and Rick had been bonding and commiserating over buttoning shirts and tying boots one-handed. Rick, after being shot by one of the Governor's men last year, still had trouble with his left hand and probably always would according to Hershel.

When they were all too full for another bite and the leftovers and plates were cleared away they started a small fire in the little pit dug out a few yards away from the table. Chairs, blankets, and pillows were drug around in a circle and they broke out a few bottles of Daryl and Andrea's homemade wine and beer to pass around. T-Dog and Maggie had a few bowls of corn kernels they were working on popping over the fire. Despite most of them coming out burned Judith was enchanted by the magic of popcorn.

The evenings were beginning to take on the cool crispness of fall. Daryl and Glenn sat side by side, leaning close and soaking up each other's body heat. They had a colorful, well-worn quilt wrapped around their shoulders and were passing a bottle of wine back and forth. Daryl was taking slow drags from one of his rolled cigarettes stuffed with some of the tobacco he'd planted and dried that year. The wispy smoke curled high up into the chilly air.

Beth was taking requests for songs and singing the ones she knew in that high, haunting voice of hers. Carl was close by her side and Glenn smiled when he noticed their hands clasped together.

Maggie and her father sat close together in lawn chairs and she joined in with Beth every other song or so, smiling and laughing as they both struggled to remember the words to some of the more obscure ones.

Carol sang a few too. She'd finally managed to get the some of the corn kernels to pop after Maggie and T-Dog had burned too many and given up. Judith was sitting in her lap alternating between eating the popcorn and playing with it. The dogs, Mr. Bartholomew J. Clifford and Princess Mario Zelda (Daryl still hadn't forgiven Glenn and Judith for those names), were laying patiently at her feet, scarfing up the pieces she tossed to them.

T-Dog had their communal guitar tonight and he strummed it softly, humming along to the songs. He wasn't the best at playing but he enjoyed it and he had certainly gotten much better with time and practice.

Resting his head against Daryl's shoulder, Glenn stole a glance at Andrea and Michonne to his right. What he saw made him smile and burrow closer against Daryl's heat.

Both women were wrapped up in a large blanket and they were sound asleep. Andrea had her head on Michonne's shoulder and the glow of the firelight highlighted the scar across her cheek, making it appear darker and larger than it really was. Glenn burrowed further into the quilt wrapped tightly around him as he watched the two women and after a moment Michonne's eyes snapped open to meet his.

She had really scared Glenn at first. She was so silent and fierce and absolutely brutal when the situation called for it, a top predator in this new world. But after several years of living so closely together that fear had evolved into deep respect and admiration for her skill and cunning. He smiled softly at her now and one corner of her mouth twitched up into a half smile of her own before she closed her eyes again and rested her cheek against Andrea's scalp.

Daryl's free arm wrapped tightly around Glenn and pulled the younger man close against his side.

Rick walked out from the darkness with heavy footfalls so as to not startle anyone. His watch shift was over and he clasped hands with Hershel as he helped the older man to his feet so he could take over the next shift.

Rick found his place next to Lori, who handed him a plate of food since he had missed dinner and wrapped a blanket around both of their shoulders. She nodded at Carl and Beth and Rick chuckled softly after watching them for a moment.

There was a peace about Rick these days that put the entire group at ease. He was still their concerned leader, always trying to stay ten steps ahead and predict the worst that could happen so they could prepare for it before disaster struck but that was how you had to think to survive these days. Their lives were not perfect or easy, not by a long shot, but they were alive and they all had each other and in this world of death and disease that was just about as good as it got.

––

Sometimes they encountered horrors even scarier than walkers. Or madmen with eyepatches. Glenn was pretty sure he would have nightmares for the rest of his life after he, Daryl, Andrea, and Michonne encountered a group of cannibals on one of their runs late that winter. Living, breathing cannibals.

They'd taken the horses and gone out on a scouting mission for always needed supplies to repair and reinforce the fences. They stopped at a folksy little general store that they had found tucked in with a gas station and a tiny old church on the edge of the woods next to an old country highway.

After clearing the building they found quite a stash of precious, nonperishable food items like salt, cornstarch, vanilla, several ten pound bags of sugar, white and wild rice, and various lentils, and after checking the basement Daryl came back up the stairs with a big grin on his face and a crate full of half a dozen bottles of Maker's Mark whiskey in his arms.

Daryl and Glenn walked across to the gas station and church to check for any other useful goods while Andrea and Michonne loaded up the rest of the supplies from the general store into the saddlebags.

Glenn was trying to goad Daryl into eating a Twinkie he had found in the general store when they entered the church. They both froze as soon as the door swung open.

The inside of the chapel was one of the most gruesome sights Glenn had ever seen.

The walls were painted with filth and the air was thick with the overpowering smell of copper and ammonia and decay. There were three partially dismembered walkers nailed to the wall behind the preacher's podium alongside a large stained glass window depicting Christ on the cross. One was missing its legs and the other two had large cuts of meat taken out of their sides and chests.

The walkers were very freshly turned and Glenn's stomach lurched when he realized that they had likely been nailed up there when they were still alive.

Kneeling before the walkers, swaying and chanting praises, was a group of people taking communion. Communion that came from one of the dismembered walker's legs.

Glenn could hear one woman moaning and babbling about partaking of the body of Christ to save their eternal souls from damnation.

They were sick, not just in mind but in body as well and they looked like half-walkers, abominations with milky-eyes and skin covered in festering lesions. They were manic and downright terrifying, and they had spotted Daryl and Glenn.

They could move fast too.

Daryl shot one with his crossbow before he and Glenn ran out of the building, only to crash into Andrea and Michonne as they scrambled back away from the church. Daryl yelled for them to run and he and Michonne took the lead but the cannibals were already out of the church and practically on top of them.

There was a dozen or so of them, naked and barefoot, running across the parking lot like a pack of wild animals, and they caught up to Andrea and Glenn before they could make it more than a few hundred feet. One snatched Andrea by her hair and she screamed and kicked, swinging around to stab her big hunting knife into his skull. Two more were on her before the one she killed hit the ground, slapping her hard across the face and slamming her into the ground. Another one tackled Glenn down to the gravel, knocking the breath out of him and even though it was healed, his broken arm was still a weak spot and he gasped in pain as he landed on it hard.

The man that knocked him down yanked his head back by the hair and bent down and licked a sloppy line up Glenn's neck with a swollen, foul smelling tongue. Broken teeth pressed against his skin and then he felt a sharp cut of wind against his cheek.

The man fell back, an arrow protruding from his forehead and his fist still seized tight in Glenn's hair even in death.

After that, there was nothing that could save the cannibals from Daryl and Michonne.

The two of them slaughtered the entire group, mercilessly cutting them down as they tried to fight back or run. Daryl rammed his knife up into the throat and through the skull of one older woman and Michonne sliced the arms off of rail-thin man that had been on Andrea before decapitating him. The others met similarly fast and violent ends all in a span of seconds. One young man, a teenager really, was nearly back to the church by the time the others had fallen but Daryl took him down with a bullet to his brain before he could cross the entrance.

Daryl and Michonne were both slick with blood and gore when it was over but Glenn and Andrea clung to them in desperate embraces regardless. Daryl squeezed Glenn back tightly and reached up with bloody fingers to gingerly touch the angry red bald spot behind the younger man's ear where Glenn had ripped himself away from the dead man's hold.

That had been a damn close call.

Glenn couldn't sleep that night when they got home. Daryl held him close in the safe darkness of their cluttered room but they were both still tense and on edge. When it was evident neither of them would be drifting off any time soon Daryl reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a book.

And that was how Glenn finally got Daryl to read _San Domingo_ to him.

They both drifted off shortly before dawn, their limbs tangled together in the bedding and Glenn's head tucked up under Daryl's jaw. Daryl only had a couple of chapters left to go.

Angus was asleep on Daryl's head again.

The world outside was full of nightmares and atrocities that few could comprehend but in their room, in that moment, everything was okay.

Except that when they woke a few hours later Glenn wouldn't let Daryl get out of bed until he finished the story.

––

END


End file.
